A Second Chance at This Life
by J. Hicks
Summary: When she was fifteen years old Rachael Cuddy devoted her entire life to this. She has waited twenty five years for this opportunity.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own House M.D. or any of the characters the show contains. Actually I don't own much of anything. I'm not making any money off of this either, just playing a little bit. I will return all characters back to their boxes unharmed when I'm done, I promise.

Summary: When she was 15 Rachael Cuddy devoted her entire life to this. She has been waiting 25 years for this moment. Now she only has to make it right.

Pairing: H/W

Warning: Major character death. Two of the actually, but don't hit the back button quite yet, supernatural happenings will be taking place.

Prologue

Everyone always said that Uncle James would outlive Uncle House. He was younger, in better shape physically and mentally. Uncle House had abused vicodin for almost a decade, and had drank heavily for years before that.

The only thing that surprised everyone when Uncle house died was the fact that he had died from cancer. A month ago I sat here in a pew next to my crying mother and father and listened as Uncle James spoke, watching as on every fourth word he glanced back to the elaborate coffin he had picked out.

We listened to him talk about how much he had loved my Uncle House, how much he would miss him, how he had become such an integral part of his life almost thirty years ago, even sharing the story of how they first met with him being bailed out of jail.

Through his tears Uncle James stood there and said many things, mostly though he helped others to see the side of Uncle House that so few people saw. He shared stories and deeds that Uncle House never would have allowed him to in life, and with his death made people realize that he wasn't actually the bastard he pretended to be.

Yesterday it seemed as if everyone was shocked but me, like I was the only one who saw this coming. Yesterday afternoon Uncle James just collapsed and they don't know why. Today I listen as a nameless Rabi sits and speaks without glancing at the plain pine box between him and us. He talks about how many patients were still alive today because of Uncle James, how even those that he could not save he cared about, made as comfortable as he could.

He doesn't say a word about how much he loved or was loved by Gregory House. How at some point in the past their lives become completely about each other. Even though they are about to burry him next to the man with a matching headstone the also says beloved husband there is no mention of him.

When he speaks about his family the Rabi points to his remaining brother and his wife. The fact that his brother pushed Uncle James out of his life when he told him that he was in love with another man means nothing now apparently. The fact that they are dry eyed and calm because to them uncle James has been dead for more than a decade is absolutely meaningless.

The Rabi mentions that he will be missed by his friends and co-workers in passing. The three of us must feature in that blanket category. He was my godfather, and he spent every holiday since I can remember with us. Yet we feature in the same nameless category with Uncle House.

The rest of the ceremony follows in a haze, and it is as we are leaving the cemetery that I hear people quietly chatting to each other. Many of them are still puzzled over the apparent lack of cause of death, and a few others comment on the fact that if Uncle House had been able to last a bit longer he would have actually outlived Uncle James.

There is only one thing I know for sure; Uncle James was _never _meant to live longer than Uncle House.


	2. Chapter 1

Spoiler: There is a slight spoiler for Moving the Chains.

A/N: In the prologue I said supernatural, I meant to say sci-fi. Sorry about that.

A single tear rolls down my cheek as I stare at the neatly kept grass in front of me. The wind blows my hair all around my face as it has so many other times I have been here. Somewhere in the last twenty five years I have lost track of the number of times that I have made this journey.

Friends of mine have called me obsessive that I have made sure to go no longer than a few months without taking a drive out here for an hour or two. They just don't understand why I can't abandon my trips to the cemetery.

Of course I was obsessive, looking at the family I was raised with how could I not be a bit obsessive. First there was my mother, youngest and first woman Dean of Medicine that Princeton-Plainsborough teaching hospital ever had. My father who, and yes it of course had been Uncle House who one day told me the story years later when they could all laugh about it together, had once almost caused serious harm to Uncle House and did serious water damage in the loft that my uncles had bought behind the back of my mother. Uncle James had been the youngest Head of Oncology at PPTH, and if my memory serves me correctly the youngest department head at all there as well. Last but not least would be Uncle House, who had an entire department created specifically for him to head, so that he could solve cases purely because of his obsessive nature. Who wouldn't have ended up obsessive themselves growing up with those people surrounding you and being your role models.

Besides the obsessive nature that I come by naturally, when I was fifteen these two men, or to be totally honest their deaths, changed and shaped my entire life. Before their deaths I, like so many other teenagers, had no idea what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. The only thing I knew for sure was that I did not want to be a doctor. I had watched my mother run out of the house with some crisis somewhere in the hospital that she just HAD to be there to fix. There were so many times that Uncle House and Uncle James would be over and Uncle James would have to run into the hospital due to some patient having an emergency, or the times I would be staying with them and Uncle House would get home at all hours of the night because he had a case that was extremely trying. I had watched so many things be interrupted that I didn't think that anything on Earth could get me to want to go into medicine. When I think about it I laugh about how naïve I was being at the time.

I had always been a good student, but schoolwork came naturally to me, and I didn't have to put very much effort into getting B's. After they died however I changed my entire outlook because I knew I needed to get into a good college so that I could get into a good medical school. I threw myself into my schoolwork and tried harder than I ever had before, probably all those times put together. My teachers were all impressed, but wary of mentioning it too often for fear of turning me back into my apathetic self. I had a plan, and even if it didn't work I wanted to make sure that if I had anything to do with it as few people as possible would have to go through what Uncle James did.

In between the deaths of Uncle House and Uncle James my English class was reading a book that helped along my obsession. The name of it escapes me now, which is ironic considering that my life is where it is because of it. I remember what it was about though and I suppose that is all that really matters. The main character, whose name also escapes me, had built a time machine, and went back in time to change all the wrongs that he did in his life.

I knew that there had been considerable technological advances in my lifetime and also the decade or so before I was born. I also knew that science was gaining more and more ground every single day. I latched all my hopes onto time travel being possible by the end of my lifetime. My current boyfriend was a total science nerd, and even Uncle House had to admit that he was an absolute genius. I knew that if anyone would be able to get it done he would be the one. Lucky for me our relationship lasted through our teenage years, and the two of us got married soon after we could both legally drink at our wedding. Somewhere along the line my obsession became his obsession, and while I have supported us with my medical career he has spent every day trying to find success with time travel.

In the last twenty five years science and medicine have come a long way. Medically speaking there really isn't any reason for me to even have a job anymore. We have cures for just about everything now, including the cancer that killed Uncle House. Ironically enough that cure specifically, as well as many others that are based in the same beginning chemical formula were found directly as a result of research that Uncle House and Uncle James had started. They were in the early stages of their research when they died, but it was still their research the was used at the starting point for others.

Almost all of the technological advances that were sported in science fiction movies when I was a kid are realities now. Everything from birth certificates, death certificates, to any form of identification is all done by fingerprint now. Absolutely no paper records at all anymore, eco friendly environment and all that. It gave all new meaning to the term "live action role playing."

However all of these advances have made my life a whole lot easier if John is successful. You can get all kinds of official documentation in any name you want specifically for those who larp. Since none of it is used for actual identification anymore, it is even completely legal to obtain.

Staring at the almost identical headstones in front of me, I begin to cry again as I think about the men buried beneath my feet. I have many memories of My Uncle House and Uncle James. I've been told that it wasn't until right around my fourth birthday that my mother let the two of them be a part of our little world. Apparently it was the two of them getting together that Uncle House was being honest in his hopes for her and Dad to be happy. From my earliest memories though, Uncle House and Uncle James were embedded in my life. I cannot remember a single holiday that did not include them at the dinner table. Uncle James smiling and charming everyone around him, and Uncle House tossing in a clever and surprisingly usually nice remark here and there.

Most weekends from my childhood I remember barbeques where Uncle House taught me things like the fine art of proper water balloon technique. I remember my father and Uncle James building my tree house while Uncle House "supervised." Vacations my parents took without me or evenings that they wanted alone were spent in their loft.

Almost all of my memories of them are happy, including when I was fourteen and broke my ankle. When I hobbled in on crutches, Uncle House joked that now I was cripple like him.

The only sad memory I really have of Uncle House is also probably the most vivid. I was fifteen when death personally touched me for the first time. Uncle House had taken me out to lunch a few days after he and Uncle James had told my parents and I about his prognosis.

_He had been given six months to a year to live, but death loomed quietly over his shoulder as we sat there. It was in the unusual gentleness in his voice, in the careful way he moved, in the even more pronounced paleness of his skin. Mostly though the silent specter was obvious in the missing twinkle from his once bright blue eyes. _

_We both sit here picking at our food instead of really eating it. We're more going through the motions for show than out of any need for food. It was still sinking in for me that within the year this would not be possible anymore. I'm lost in thought when his voice interrupts my musings._

"_Rachael, ever since your mom let Wilson and I into your lives you've come to mean a lot to both of us." He starts without looking at me. For as long as I can remember he has avoided any kind of honest conversation about his emotions. _

"_Since neither of us had any kids of our own, you helped us to enjoy the fun sides of parenting most of the time, and a few times even the worries. It's been nice to have a family this last decade…" He pauses then as if he is done and sits picking at the cuff of his shirt. _

"_I know Un…" I begin to respond but he silences me as always with a single look. I know that he will not continue until he has his own feelings back under control. _

"_I need you to do me favor after I die." He says bluntly before continuing. _

"_Your Uncle James has a hard time letting people he cares about go, but there is a lot of good he can do in this world yet, and so he can't be allowed to fall off the edge quite yet. It's going to be hard, but I think you are probably the only person who has a chance of keeping him in line after I'm gone. Just try and keep up with him, spend some extra time with him if you can for awhile."_

"_Of course." I respond in the only way I can, I love them both, how could I not do this for him. He just nods once in confirmation and reverts back to fun Uncle House, but the light is still missing from the blue eyes._

Three months later they were both dead and buried where I stand today. Before his death though he had hammered home the point behind his last request of me. He had jokingly told me about Uncle James' brother that had ran away, and the three ex-wives and the girlfriend that had died Amber. He was trying to explain to me without making it obvious that he was doing so.

It was his dying wish, but I was unable to follow through with my end of the bargain. I tried, tried my hardest as a matter of fact, but Uncle James had just loved him too much. I honestly believe that there isn't anyone on Earth that could have kept him here. I never forgot my promise to a dying man though. I have spent my entire life, as well as my husbands, dedicated to making it come true somehow.

I casually brush my fingers over the headstones, once again feeling only a single tear slide down my face when my cell phone interrupts my silent musings.

I flip open the phone and instead of the hello I was expecting I hear the thing I've been waiting twenty five years to hear. "It's ready."


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: For the record 2023 is accurate year. Rachael was born and adopted during season 5 late 2008 early 2009 making her 15 years old for most of 2023.

It feels like I had been planning for this moment my entire adult life. I had rushed home from the cemetery after John called my cell phone. As soon as I walked into the home we've shared for almost the past twenty years I ran straight to my bedroom closest to remove the dusty backpack that has been fully packed for the last two years.

After John told me that he was sure he would be finished within the a few years I got the finishing touches on my little bag of supplies. I had spent years gathering a hundred thousand dollars in bills that are all marked for the year 2023or before. Along with enough money to get myself a new wardrobe and keep myself in a nice hotel for the duration of my stay was what I was sure was more than enough medication to cure Uncle House.

The last items filling my backpack were everything I would need for my temporary identity. Medical license, Social security card, birth certificate, Colorado driver's license and state I.D. all in the name Jamie Gretchen Evans born in 1983. I long ago memorized Uncle James' DEA number so if I did end up having to give out prescriptions I could just forge his.

I knew my reference would check out ok. I "worked" at Colorado General which just happened to have a fire in their records department a few weeks before and had an alcoholic who had no idea what was going on most of the time as Dean of Medicine. I remember from over heard conversations as a teenager that he would do anything to cover up his alcoholism, including giving someone who never really worked for him a glowing recommendation. I guess now Mom _wont _have to learn that one the hard way.

Making sure to drop my purse on the bed on my way back out the door and down into our basement turned John's workspace. I find John fiddling with what looks like a telephone booth.

"All ready to go?" I can only nod in response to the question he poses to me. If I try to speak I might just throw up. We may have spent our whole adult lives planning this moment, but I don't think it is something anyone could ever REALLY be ready for.

"Okay, then you just step inside and I can send you back."

Once again my only response is a nod as I move forward to do as he has told me to do.

When I step inside-the only way I can think of it-telephone booth, he moves forward to give me a quick kiss.

"I love you, good luck Rachael." I feel a small twinge of guilt at his words. We may have spent twenty five years planning and preparing for this exact event, but that doesn't mean that I didn't love him. Actually, if anything the fact that he was honestly willing to help with this plan has only made me love him even more. If my plan works the way it is supposed to, my life as I know it will never have happened.

"John, just remember no matter what happens, I love you, always have." It is his turn now to only nod in response to my words and with that he steps out of the booth and goes to his computer on the desk.

There is a humming noise and the last thing I see of the world I have created is John giving me a slight wave with a sad smile on his face.

In that single blink I find myself not in my own basement, or at least not yet. It worked, John _actually_ mastered the act of time travel. I'm in the abandoned home that won't be renovated for another seven years or so when we buy it specifically because it has been abandoned for a decade.

My first stop will be the hotel that is only a few blocks away from our home. Second stop to the mall a block or two farther down the block for at least a single change of clothes and a pay as you go cell phone. Last stop of the day dropping off my resume for the spot that _just _would have opened up in Oncology, the last doctor being unable to deal with Uncle House randomly stopping in and causing havoc.

After that all I can do is hope.

TBC

The next part will FINALLY have some House and Wilson I promise…


End file.
